Bury Me(9)

It’s my turn to roll my eyes at her. “Thanks a lot.”

The way she has her head tilted to the side has moved her curtain of blonde hair away from one side of her neck. I lean toward her a little closer when I see what looks like scratches on her skin. They are long and deep and disappear into the collar of her shirt.

“What happened to your neck?”

Trudy’s hand flies up to the side of her neck, and she covers up the scratches, laughing sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m guessing you forgot about the kitten my mom got me for a graduation present?” she asks, nervously pulling her long hair forward to drape over her shoulders, effectively hiding the marks from me.

I look into her eyes, knowing without a doubt that she’s lying to me, but I have no idea why.

“I asked for a car, and I got a kitten,” she huffs in annoyance. “How in the hell is a kitten going to help me get to and from college in the fall? Anyway, that little ball of fur hates me. Every time I pick her up she scratches me.

“So… back to you,” she says with a smile, changing the subject. “You really don’t remember anything?”

I’m so sick and tired of feeling like people are lying to me. Why won’t anyone tell me the truth?

“Why were you here three days ago?” I fire back.

Trudy swallows nervously and fiddles with one of the cuff buttons on her blouse. “We were just going to hang out. You know, talk about college and stuff, no big deal. You invited me over, but when you answered the door you were acting really weird.”

“Weird how?” I ask.

Trudy shrugs. “I don’t know, just weird. You were dressed differently, your hair was all wild and crazy, and, to be honest, you were kind of mean to me.”

My hand reaches up to touch the braid at the back of my head, once again feeling the urge to rip it out and let my long black hair fall down my back, free of the tight constriction.

“You called me all sorts of names and told me to go home. I didn’t even realize you knew words like that until you shouted them at me,” she says with an uncomfortable laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re just like every other whore, trying to take what isn’t yours. No one is falling for that innocent act you put on, you snobby, lying bitch.”

In a quick flash, I can see myself clear as day, standing on the front porch of the prison, the thunder and lightning echoing all around as I shout angry words at someone who is supposed to be my friend. Words that don’t match the petite, smiling blonde sitting in front of me, but words I feel deep down inside are true.

“It’s no big deal; I’ve already forgiven you,” she tells me with an easy smile. “It’s pretty obvious you weren’t in your right state of mind that night for whatever reason. I’m just glad you’re okay. You seem like you’re back to your old self and that’s all that matters, right?”

It’s not all that matters, not by a long shot. It’s pretty obvious she’s not telling me everything. Aside from the fact that I acted and looked different that night, why was I so angry with her? What would have made me so enraged that I would shout such nasty things at someone who is supposed to be my friend?

“Do you know the guy who works here? Nolan?” I ask her, trying one last time to see if she’ll be honest about something.

Her smile immediately falls and she pulls her legs out from under her, shifting her body nervously on the couch.

“Stay away from that guy; he’s bad news,” she warns me.

I already got that message from my father and the overall uneasy feeling I had around him made me agree, but it’s clear that I can’t trust anything Trudy tells me.

“Why is he bad news? What has he done?”

She pushes herself up from the couch and lets out a stilted laugh. “He’s just not a good guy, okay? I don’t even know why your father lets him work here. I mean, he’s cute and all and nice to look at, but there’s something off with him. I don’t know him personally or anything, but it’s what I’ve heard. Stay away from him, okay?”

Trudy moves around my legs and heads for the stairs. “I have to get going; my mom wants to go shopping for college stuff.”

I quickly stand and follow her toward the stairs. “My mom was going to make us lunch. Don’t you want to stay?”

She thumps down the stairs at a hurried pace, and I follow behind her. I don’t really want to spend more time with her when she’s not going to honestly answer the questions I have for her, but she was here the night everything happened. She’s the key to unlocking my memories, and I have to do whatever I can to open that lock if I want to find out what happened.